


Midnight Reality

by ladyofstardvst



Category: Deadly Class (Comics), Deadly Class (TV)
Genre: what is this you ask? i dont know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 16:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofstardvst/pseuds/ladyofstardvst
Summary: one of those 'we aren't even technically together but oh shit i think we're in love and this is a disaster waiting to happen' thing.





	Midnight Reality

**Author's Note:**

> there needs to be more lex content in this fandom so HERE WE ARE.  
> hope you like it!

You knew you didn't love Lex, and you knew he didn't love you.

But knew you loved the way worn black leather looked on him, the way it clung to him like a second skin that filtered out all the bullshit: regular things like fear and shame and trust and in most cases, his dignity. You loved the way his battered grey The Exploited t-shirt would peek through the generously studded material, and the way numerous safety pins and chains and various other metals caught the fluorescent lights and glinted in the sparklers you knew for a fact he just stole.

You knew you loved the unmatched talent he had with pyrotechnics; how careless and _natural_ he was with fire. The way he could always make them bend to his will and make a bomb out of anything.

And you _meant_ anything.

It suited him.

You loved what he said about changing the world one bullet at a time: cleansing it top to bottom of the dreaded scum of the Earth, the worst of the human population. How obscurely noble it seemed for someone like him.

You knew there was more to Lex Miller than meets the eye. More to him than he let Billy even see.

You also knew, given the circumstances at this Hell-incarnate of a school . . . there wasn't anything either of you _would_ _n't_ do. But there were lines. There were lines hidden in the sand, etched beneath the surface of your souls that you never spoke of, never dared mention out loud. You knew they were there. You saw them. You felt them. An unspoken rule of a sort, one that had everyone on edge, second guessing about everything they thought they knew about getting close to someone. You and Lex came oh so close to crossing them once, twice, thrice . . . but neither of you were that stupid. Neither of you were that reckless or brave or desperate.

You hated those lines, but you respected them. You _had_ to. Once you crossed them, there was no turning back. The last things you needed were liabilities and fresh weaknesses begging to be exploited thrown into the mix of learning the deadly arts.

||

There was a wild look he got in his eyes when you stood too close; those times he could feel the warmth jumping off of you in waves and mixing with his own. He never told anyone how much it drove him crazy, how being with you felt like going to an underground show in someone's basement. Exhilaration took over and natural instinct lured him into a trap of finally _fucking_ letting _go_ _-_ and it felt like the war between the darkness and the light, the one he didn't even realize was raging within himself - had come to a temporary halt.

When he was with you, you brought out the best in him. It was simple. It was cliche. You saw through his rough punk exterior into the soft punk interior that no one thinks existed.

It does.

You knew there was something else going on, something being altered between you two when he let you leave the graveyard wearing his leather jacket one night. Studs brushing your neck, sleeves dropping past your fingertips, hem brushing your thighs instead of your waist. The Adicts patch pressed heavily against your back with all the weight of the world and in that moment you _understood_ how Atlas felt.

Time slowed down.

The next night was a mess of fingers tangled in hair, jewelry caught and snagged on torn clothes and jackets pushed off shoulders in the shadows. Shared breaths and counted minutes until curfew; hands and lips were everywhere and nowhere at once, kissing the ink of tattoos and accidentally discovering new ones. It was a whirlwind of stolen smiles in-between catching breaths, a shiver up your spine when his voice was low in your ear and vaguely registering the new Descendends record that drifted up from the stereo two stories down on the roof with everyone else.

You knew you didn't love Lex Miller, and you knew he didn't love you.

He was an asshole. Especially while drunk.

You could be an asshole right back though, even more so while sober.

When you walked away at the end of the night, the stars were spread above you like glitter had been flung in the air and stuck to the fabric of the universe. Your hands were buried in the soft leather sleeves, heart beating a thousand miles a minute. You felt the lingering burn of eyes watching you go, not with hostility, but definitely _intensity_ \- and you _knew_ who's they belonged to. You felt it down in the marrow of your bones. You felt the buzz in your veins, the heat that rose in your cheeks and the twinge of a smile that spread across your swollen lips.

It was then, you realized, that you knew nothing at all.


End file.
